She hurts and I can't fix it. And it kills me. I think this is how I truly know that I'm not the same person I was when I could hurt her without a second thought. I wish I could hold her and make things better. What makes it worse is that I want so bad for her to be happy, but it's her girlfriend that's making her upset.

Lying, crying, dying.
I'm so sick of pretending
that I'm alright.
I'M NOT OKAY.
I'm not...
anything you wanted me to be.
Not pretty or worthy or happy,
in one piece, surviving.
Not even alive.
This body sports the battle scars
of every day in your house.
I'm so fucking dead inside
I don't even know how to feel.
I thought it would be hard
to find somebody I hated
more than myself.

I have figured out why I care so much all of a sudden about my fingernails. The little kids at my work, think I'm amazing because I paint my nails random colors. With sparkles or multiple colors. It's a pretty cool group of kids...I work at the YMCA. Where they promote "Strong Christian Values." I could giggle everytime I see that sign. It cracks me up.

So, because I'm too lazy to make tostadas myself...I decided ask my dad to make them tomorrow for dinner. My European mixed father. When I have perfectly good skills. And my mother....the MEXICAN one...doesn't make good tostadas. How does this work?

Whateversexual_llama's guitar is named Tostada. Now I want Tostadas. Or atleast a trip to Taco Bell. Just because I CAN make myself perfectly good hispanic food, doesn't mean that I actually WANT to. My poor Abuela would cry over that. She spent I don't know how many hours in the kitchen teaching my cousins and I how to cook. And now, we only make minudo every other summer.

Because I'm bored and all the "cool" kids are doin’ it. Haha. I might not make it to 100 though.
1.I'm an ADHD kid.
2.My attention span SUCKS. It’s taken me three days to write this.
3.Chrome is my favorite color.
4.Because it's shiny.
5.When I was 11, I had an imaginary dog and a little sister.
6.I hate shoes.
7.And chairs.
8.I get panic attacks in large crowds.

People assume that she left me. She didn't. The difference is, I meant every word I said. That there was nobody for me but her. Every word that dripped the promises of forever. That I would love her forever. I meant it. And she tells me she loves me and wants to be with me forever. But she doesn't trust me. Yet, we talk every day, hours at a time. About everything. All day long. Still, no trust.

I can't move on,
but oh how I wish I could.
You're in every piece of me
and I'm just a fragment of you.
Loving you is a one way street
and I'd kill to get off
where the crossroads meet.
I need love and you're just a liar
So don't tell me I'm wrong.
I really thought we belonged.
I could so easily ruin what you have.
Because honestly, what would she say
once she saw your sweet words?

I need love
and you're just a liar
So don't tell me I'm wrong
because I really thought we belonged
----

So, over here in Vicodin land...Everything is very pretty. So if this entry is a little random, blame the perscription ibuprofin. So far, I'm pretty amused. Except I have to type really slow because my brain is not fully connected and I miss-spell my words. So yesterday, I was completely miserable and could barely function enough to go to work. I got about...an hour of sleep last night. In total.

So in the land of high school hell, there's the WASL. Washington Assesment of Student Learning AKA: HELL for you outta state/outta country folks. Basically, this is the bullshit they attach as a graduation requirement to which graduating class?

She tells me she loves me every day, multiple times. We fight only because I start it. But I've always been that way. There are nights where I think I might die from loving her too much. Because anybody else's name on her lips breaks my hearts. We once made a million promises and created our dreams on the silly hopes of 15 year old kids. We're gunna get there someday.

She told me that she loved me last night. I think my heart hit the floor and bounced back up to lodge its self somewhere between my windpipe and my vocal chords because I had no words and no air. It's so weird, hearing those words, saying them back. Because it's been...Almost 4 months since I've said those words to her. There's that first time nervousness all over again.

+She still uses the nickname I gave her a thousand sunrises ago.
+We fall so easily back into our old paterns of comfort and familiarity.
+She's still my bestfriend and knows me better than anybody.
+She's snapped me back into the habit of writing letters that I will never send.
+I remember everything. So I cry too much and feel too hard. In front of everybody.

It hurts that I still care. That I doubt that she will even think about the date today. That she won't care. What I hate the most is that I still care. I sat with Heather today and talked about it...Because I am not yet over her or what we had. Because if I could rewind time and fix the broken things back in the beggining, two years ago today, I would. I would undo all the hurt from both sides.